4.6 | Dark Ages ✓

- 2 5 : 0 0

– 2 5 : 0 0

IT IS QUIET when he opens his eyes.

He blinks and twists his head around, confused by the sudden change in setting. He's still here, in the safe-house, but the creatures have disappeared. So has the tank in the back street. Jungkook is nowhere to be found. Taking a deep breath, he steadies his gun over his shoulder and goes to open the door.

He stops.

In his hand, the doorknob is smooth and shiny, instead of the gnarled and rusty one he'd known it to be.

Cautiously, he yanks open the door a fraction. His eyes sting from the sunlight, but when his vision gradually adjusts, he finds himself in a new world. Here, the streets are bustling with activity. Cars trundle past and several schoolchildren skip down the sidewalk. The windows of the houses opposite are opened, and even the doors flung wide as though extending an invitation.

Gradually, he becomes aware of a soft voice calling for help.

He stuffs his gun inside his jacket and heads down the steps. Out in the front yard, the path leading to the gate is dusted and swept. Flowers bloom where weeds previously were, and a rake and shovel propped by the fence are tell-tale signs of a well-kept garden. He follows the voice—quiet, frightened, feminine—until he finds himself looking up at a large tree.

Clad in frayed overalls and muddy shoes, a young girl clings to a low branch like it's her only lifeline. She gazes down at him, her face blotched red from crying and her big eyes wide with fear. She sniffles, scrubbing snot from her nose and whimpers.

He almost chuckles at the sight and tips back on his heels to study her. "How did you get up there?"

"I was climbing," she says, sniffing again. "They made fun of me earlier and I wanted to be alone."

"Who?"

She juts her chin out towards the street. He follows her gaze, only to find those schoolchildren he'd seen earlier. He sighs. If only he had some memories of his childhood, then he could use those experiences to deal with this.

But he doesn't, so he turns back to her. "I'm Taehyung. What's your name?"

For someone who looks barely five years old, she stares at him with a narrow-eyed expression that suits the face of a person much older. "Mommy says I shouldn't give my name to strangers."

"Fair enough."

Well, shit. How the hell is he supposed to deal with this? At least, with the zombies, he'd been given a gun to blow their heads off. It's not as though he could give her the gun to add to her doll collection.

He sighs and peers up at her. "Do you want to come down?"

"I don't know how to."

"That's why I'm here." As the words leave his mouth, he's suddenly struck with the realization that he might be right. Is this really why I'm here? He holds his hand out, extending his fingers towards her until he can almost brush her feet. "Come on, give me your hand."

She hesitates, worrying her bottom lip, then slowly reaches for him. Chubby fingers graze his just as she loses her balance on the branch. With a shriek, she falls right off. Her limbs flail as she desperately grasps at air, but he lunges forward and catches her before she hits the ground. He takes the brunt of the collision and lands with a heavy thump on the grass.

He hisses at the impact, then props himself up on one elbow to look at her. "I've got you," he assures her, lifting one hand to push her hair out of her tear-stricken face. "Are you alright?"

She whimpers at the sight of her bruises and scrambles off him. "Hurts," she whines, shoving one bloodied knee at him.

He rolls his eyes, torn between exasperation and amusement. "Fine. I'll take you home."

He's still hauling her to her feet when he catches a faint tick, tick, tick. His gaze darts down, to where her little fingers have grabbed his wrist.

His watch around his wrist.

His eyes widen, so does hers, and he barely manages to wrench away from her grasp before he vanishes into thin air.